


Like all the stars in the sky

by Sanemsie



Category: MIB - Fandom, MIB: International, Men in Black (Movies), Men in Black: International
Genre: F/M, Henry and Molly just keep running into eachother, Partners to Lovers, Post-Canon, the world isnt really THAT small though, they're just secretly keeping tabs on eacother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanemsie/pseuds/Sanemsie
Summary: He looks back at her and what she sees is something like the stars, extraordinary and real“Goodbye, agent M”---A post movie fic





	Like all the stars in the sky

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVED this movie, Molly&Henry's chemistry is just *fire emoji* and it won't let me live so HENCE this fic  
> anyone out there that reads+ enjoys this please leave me a comment so I know I'm not alone in obsessing over this ship <3

He asks her if she's ever been in love and she thinks--

 

_Yeah_

 

Not in the conventional sense, perhaps, and she finds it much too cheesy and out of place in that moment to tell him that _yeah_ , she has been,

 

that if only he could have seen the stars that night like she did, when she was a kid, if only he could have felt them, so damn extraordinary and real, then maybe he wouldn’t have to ask her that question at all

 

She knows what he means by it, though, and _how_ he means it and, for some reason, the question comes back to her now, watching him fidget in the passenger side of his car

 

“So, New York, huh?” he seems to be talking to fill the space, something she knows now that he does, unconsciously perhaps, but often   

 

 _‘You already said that’_ sits on the tip of her tongue though she settles for “ _yeah_ ” which isn’t eloquent, per say, as far as answers go, though it seems to come out of the right place--the place that says _I would stay if I could_ but then-- _that's not how this goes,not our story, at least_

 

They briefly make eye contact and maybe it's that same realization that makes him look away after just a couple moments

 

“You’ll do great there” and then he rectifies quickly “you’d do great _anywhere_ ”

 

She could laugh at how clumsy the words tumble out of him, how out of place the awkwardness looks on him--the closest thing to a smooth talker that the institution has to offer--she could, but instead she turns to look at him again, and what she sees there is different this time

 

Vaguely, she's aware of the outside world, cars zipping by, the hum of the engine, Pawny’s oblivious snores where he seems to have fallen asleep already in his spot inside the glove compartment

 

He looks back at her and what she sees is something like the stars, _extraordinary and real_

 

“Goodbye, agent M”  

 

*

“I had the situation under control!” is what he tells her--yells it, actually, over the commotion of the world nearly falling to pieces around them

 

“What? That mean you didn’t miss me?” she lets herself quip back, smirking a little but only because she knows that the earth’s salvation is currently tucked under her arm

 

They save the world and he tells her that she’s probably used to that by now

 

“It’s not an easy thing to get used to” and it's not so far from the truth at all

 

He shrugs, agreeing, perhaps, or shaking off whatever film it is that settles over you after nearly dying and taking the entire universe with you

 

They find a quiet moment there, somehow, amidst rubble and the relative calm before the damage control storm that always ensues after an event like this

 

“I did-- _I do_ ” he says then

 

_Miss you_

 

*

It's been a rough couple of days, to say the least, so by the time she comes to, finding herself chained to the ceiling by her ankles, she's not all that surprised to be met with his bright blue eyes swinging at her side--nothing could surprise her really at this point and so she just grunts, letting her head swivel as if that would shake away the brain splitting headache currently taking up residence at the back of her eyelids

 

He looks cleaner, his wrists still not chaffed where they’re tied identically like her own, which suggests that his predicament is a more recent one than hers

 

“What brings _you_ here?” she lets herself say, only because she's tired of just the sound of her blood pounding in her ears

 

“Oh you know, just thought I would swing by, catch up” he says, his voice just short of the regular lightness of his usual tone

 

She tells him as much as she’s able in her current state of semi-disorientation--the intel she's gathered, the mission, the betrayal, which, she must say, really came out of nowhere

 

He seems to agree with her on that point

 

“Surprising” he murmurs, though it sounds far too dry for her to actually think he means it  “you two seemed pretty cozy, if the intel photographs that hit my desk a couple hours ago are any indication”

 

She's irritated, sure, at his tone, at whatever it is he’s implying, at her own rookie mistakes

 

“What, you’re the only one that’s allowed to woo an alien crime boss to save the world?”

 

She doesn’t mean for it to come out with as much bite as it does but she doesn’t flinch away from his gaze either, committing instead to what's not altogether _untrue_ and feeling a strange kind of jolt uncurl itself over her skin at the sight of his clenched jaw, rocking back and forth

 

“I guess I deserved that” he mutters to himself, folding up at the waist to fidget with the constraints around his ankles

 

The world spins as she tries to do the same and she sighs, fully aware that her oversights are the reason that they’re in this mess to begin with. She eyes him again, after her vision comes back into focus, taking in as much of his silhouette as she can make out amidst the heavy shadows of whatever dungeon they’ve been thrown into. He hasn’t changed much-- his blonde hair a slight longer than she saw it last, his beard shorter and she's struck with the need to make peace, because it's been a while, and because she's always glad to see him

 

“So that's all it took then, the world’s imminent doom, to tear the London branch’s head of organization away from that stuffy office he likes so much?” she says, in what she hopes is a lighter tone

 

“The worlds always in _imminent doom_ ” he mutters, like it's the first thing that pops into his head and like he’s frustrated, perhaps with more than just the locks currently chaining him to a ceiling and then-- “you _are_ in my jurisdiction, agent, and, I hate to admit it, but we’re a slight understaffed at the moment” he adds, teasing, seeming to accept her olive branch

 

Molly snorts, knowing for a _fact_ that isn’t true

 

His smirk tells her that he picks up on her disbelief and it's only after he successfully frees himself from his shackles and is in the process of releasing her that he annexes his previous comment

 

“Plus, I couldn’t just let you do all the world saving alone now, could I?” and, really, his eyes seem so blue up this close, sparkling with mirth and something else she can’t entirely place.

 

Vaguely, she makes note of the fact that his accent always seems to get thicker when he’s deflecting

 

*

They’re stranded, and it _really is_ like deja vu all over again

 

Its water, though, instead of sand this time, and she sputters, finding him closer to her than she expected as they both rise above the surface, bobbing a little to keep themselves afloat

 

It's all because of his affinity for big red buttons and she really can't help the-- _we have to stop meeting like this_ that shoots out of her as soon as she’s caught enough air   

 

He grins and it _looks good on him_ , his eyes sparkling like waves catching sunlight

 

He watches her as they ascend onto the beach, from the crown of damp curls on her head to where the fabric of her white shirt has started clinging onto her body for dear life

 

She feels loose footed and graceless as the heels of her boots sink into the sand and she’s sure that her hair is already starting to resemble something of a rat’s nest but when she turns to him, to say something, she finds him _looking_

 

She half expects him to look away, now that he’s caught--he doesn’t--and maybe she’s reading too closely into the whole situation but it seems he might be trying to _unravel her_

 

He looks some more, and when she’s sure he must be getting tired of it, he keeps looking

 

It's not until it seems like he just might say something that his communicator rings and there's a voice on the other end informing him of a successful mission. They’re sending someone to collect them and they should hold tight for a couple hours and then it’s quiet again, just the waves crashing in the background and the faint noise of the seaside birds making their daily rounds

 

They manage a fire again, just as the sun seems to be settling down for the night

 

“ _So_ ” he starts, doing that thing again, talking to fill the space “MIB, is it all you imagined it would be?”   

 

She takes a moment to decide how to answer

 

She settles on honesty, because his eyes seem to promise something that she’s ever only seen in the moon and because he’s earned it, mostly, considering how many times they’ve saved each other from imminent doom

 

Molly looks away, up into where an array of yellows and oranges start to blotch the sky “You know, I spent so much time thinking of how I'd get _in,_  obsessing over the logistics, turning down perfectly good opportunities, shutting anyone who might have been interested in me out of my life-that I never really imagined what it would be _like_ ” she says this quietly, rushed, all in one breath, not knowing really what to expect as the words settle themselves around them

 

He takes it in stride, like he takes everything, though there's a softness that rises to the corner of his mouth that gives his thoughtfulness away

 

“I don’t blame you,” he says, his voice light and teasing, like he knows how difficult it is to talk about these sorts of things “It would take a very vivid imagination to think up all this stuff on your own anyways” he shrugs, the movement of it sending tiny rivets of moisture rushing over the surface of his freckled shoulder that she can’t help but find fascinating as they make their way over his skin. He’s being proactive about their current situation, wringing out his shirt of the salt water and laying it out to dry by his side. He offers to do the same for her and only laughs a little when she quickly turns down his offer, cheeks pink and words all but sputtered in embarrassment

 

“Just thought I would offer” is what he says in defense of himself, showing her his palms as if in surrender

 

He's nursing the fire, fetching as much wood as he can from their surroundings and the next time he settles down beside her, he's _closer_ , bare shoulder nearly bumping her still damp one

 

“I’m sure you weren’t expecting all of this” he says quietly, fidgety again, all the sudden

 

_I wasn’t expecting you_

 

He seems to hear that, despite the fact that she didn’t actually say it and then their eyes meet again, bright and searching and alight with everything they’ve never felt before with anyone else. There's no mission, no impending world destruction, no adrenaline pumping through their veins--there's just _them_ \--just their lips parting in anticipation, just their bodies, inching every breath _closer_

 

He moves first. The hand that had been fidgety now coming up to cradle her cheek in his palm. His touch is rough, calloused from all his fighting and world saving, but gentle as he traces his thumb over her jawline. Henry runs his tongue over his lips, looking, for the first time since she’s known him, at least a little nervous.

 

She thinks she can help with that, they are partners afterall, and so she lets a hand run up the length of his strong arm, lets it settle over the shoulder she’d watched so intently before, her fingers digging into the skin there, the pressure of it the reassuring nudge he seems to be looking for

 

_and then_

 

And then he’s kissing her, slow and deep and warm, like the ocean when it takes a break from crashing into itself--like the moon, when it touches the sun on its way up into the sky.

 

He tastes like saltwater and whatever else it is that makes him _him_ ,

 

She’s never really done this before, _not like this_ and then she feels it coming on, the dizziness that comes with kissing him, with how his beard scrapes, not unpleasantly, against her cheeks as he scoots forward in an attempt to capture her lips entirely

 

His mouth is warm, slow at first and then more insistent. She meets him at every tug and movement of their lips--partners, truly, in every sense of the word

 

Their necks are at a strange angle, twisted enough that she can feel it but even that sensation is nothing compared to the feeling of kissing him. Her heart flips over; her other hand comes up to tangle in his hair, and she presses closer to him until it feels like her whole body is on fire from his touch.

 

They separate after a couple moments, lips swollen and panting and he smiles, a goofy kind of smile that makes him look younger somehow, boyish

 

It makes her laugh and then she’s blushing again, looking away from from him until his fingers are pinching at her chin

 

“You’re beautiful agent Molly of New York” he murmurs, his eyes warm and brimming with affection

 

_Like all the stars in the sky_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [where the heart is (or some other stupid romantic line)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361026) by [funnefatale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnefatale/pseuds/funnefatale)




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